Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.

Please use the dropdown buttons to set your preferred options, or use the checkbox to accept the defaults.

Don't show me this message again

Swifter, Isis, swifter flow, Z336

Introduction

Purcell’s sole Ode dating from 1681, Swifter, Isis, swifter flow, was only the second he wrote, and seems to have been composed to celebrate the return to London of Charles II from his annual autumn visit to Newmarket. Luttrell records in his diary that on 12 October 1681 ‘at night, for joy, were ringing of bells and bonefires in severall places’ and the anonymous author, clearly familiar with such royal homecomings, makes direct references to these celebrations. Purcell too appears to have been especially inspired by the sound of bells ringing. Indeed, after the fine opening of the Symphony, characterized by falling chromatic harmonies, it is a downward six-note motif which permeates through the second, triple-time section and into the tenor’s opening phrase. (The river Thames flowing through the city of Oxford is called the Isis, reverting back to its former name as it widens towards London, where it ran past the King’s palace.) Throughout this opening, Purcell’s skill at writing for strings is particularly effective, as indeed it is in all the early church music which was already flowing copiously from his pen. The solo bass is accompanied at ‘Land him safely on her shore’ by two recorders, often associated by Purcell with plaintive or amorous themes. Purcell’s splendid string writing introduces the tenor solo ‘Hark, hark! just now my listening ears’, written over an unusually jolly four-bar ground bass. His melodic writing is its usual graceful self, with an especially attractive setting of ‘Oh, how she does my eyes delight’ before the ringing of bells returns, and the movement ends with a tantalizingly short instrumental playout: its eight bars require not only strings but also a solo oboe, which appears nowhere else in the Ode.

Next a trio and chorus alternate phrases with ‘Welcome, dread Sir, to town’ (with London referred to as ‘Augusta’) before the bass has a fine recitativo section ‘But with as great devotion meet’, full of graphic word-painting. The lilting ‘Your Augusta he charms’ is introduced by a solo tenor and taken up by the chorus, with a delightfully unexpected tonal shift at ‘Who tells her the King keeps his court here tonight’ before another short instrumental ritornello rounds off the movement. The duet ‘The King whose presence’ is underpinned by a gently running ground bass and touching suspensions, leading to the final chorus. Here the principal manuscript source is incomplete, with over half of the inner parts missing: for this recording these have been completed by Robert King. The phrase ‘May no harsher sounds e’er invade your blest ears’ is particularly notable, with its intense chromaticism prefiguring some of the finest moments of Dido and Aeneas.

'A treasure house of shamefully neglected music. Over nine hours of wonderful invention … this major recording achievement must be an irresistibl ...'By any yardstick these are life-enhancing works' (CDReview)» More

Swifter, Isis, swifter flow, Muster all your streams together, Then in a full body go And guard great Britain’s monarch hither. Charles, the mighty sovereign, Great lord of the exhaustless main, From whose fountain every tide Your dead low waters are supplied.

Land him safely on her shore, Who his long absence does deplore, He with joy her walls does fill, As high spring tides your channels swell, Fills her walls to that excess, As lovers’ hearts with happiness, Tender lovers when returned To those dear arms whose loss they mourn.

Hark, hark! just now my listening ears Are struck with the repeated sound Of labouring oars, and it appears, By growing strong, they’re this way bound. See, see, it is the royal barge, Oh, how she does my eyes delight, Let bells ring, and great guns discharge, Whilst numerous bonfires banish night.

Welcome, dread Sir, to town, Thrice welcome to this your chief seat, Pensive at your retreat As joyful at your return. Though causeless jealousy May by the factious be broached, Your Augusta will never be From your kinder arms debauched.

But with as great devotion meet And fall at your returning feet, As those glad northern people run To welcome and adore the sun (Who, in their gloomy hemisphere For certain months does disappear) When they are told the pleasing news By him who first the glimmering views, Your Augusta he charms with no lesser delight Who tells her the King keeps his court here tonight.

The King whose presence like the Spring, Recalls the beauty of each thing, Makes gay the town as that the field And more delight and profit yield, Makes all our sorrows vanish quite, As day-break clears the face of night.

Then since, Sir, from you all our blessings do flow, And a tribute of praise to the fountain we owe, ’Tis fit when the best of your subjects address, In music and song we our hearts should express, As rivers back into the ocean do run And a homage do pay where their streams first begun. May no harsher sounds e’er invade your blest ears, To disturb your repose or alarm our fears, No trumpet be heard in this place or drum beat, But in compliment or to invite you to eat, Or this happy palace with any shouts ring But the loud acclamations of ‘Long live the King!’